Page 55 of Hidden

This time he had answered.

“Course he’ll be alright,” Crash said. He was the president now and leading the funeral procession. My mother hadn’t been buried in the club graveyard. She was a bunny, after all, and bunnies did not get the respect of being buried with the gang. But she wasn’t too far away. Just on the outskirts of the compound, where I could easily visit. And I knew already, I’d probably be the only one. “Luke is moving into the main house with us, aren’t you, lad? We’ll see to it that you keep on the right track.”

“Yeah, Crash,” I murmured, not really paying attention.

“Come on, darling,” Kitty soothed, pushing away Warrior’s hand and wrapping her arm around me, pulling me close. “Let’s get you back home.”

Home.

But it wasn’t my home.

It was just the place I had been staying whilst Mum’s mess was cleaned up.

My home was the shit house, with its broken fence and god-awful smells. But it was mine. It was my mother’s.

Except… of course, it wasn’t temporary. Bikers might be a bit fucked up, but none of them were prepared to let a fifteen-year-old live alone—especially not in the house their mother had overdosed in.

Now Tools was going to move into that house. He said I could help him do it up, and that I would always be welcome there. Sunshine said he’d teach me how to paint so I could help with the decorating. Ant had offered to move all my furniture into the clubhouse—something that Kitty had looked horrified about, but had quickly wiped the look off her face and pretended she was thrilled.

They were all trying. They all promised I was family. They were showing me they weren’t abandoning me. That Ibelongedhere.

And that was enough.

So, I didn’t cry. I didn’t mourn. I let her—and the house—go. Because life goes on.

And yet… why was it, whenever I was alone, everything seemed to hit me like a fucking brick, and I couldn’t help feeling as though my heart was being shredded?

“Luke, sweetheart?” Kitty nudged me when I didn’t reply.

“Don’t worry about me, Mama K. I’m fine,” I smiled at her. I’d always be fine around my club. They were offering me an opportunity, and I wasn’t going to let them down and spend the next few weeks a blubbering mess.

“Luke… you can talk to me, you know? You can talk about her…”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” I said, shrugging away from her hold. “I’m alright, honestly. Get me back on my bike, and it's nothing a good ride won’t solve.”

“That’s my lad!” Warrior beamed, slapping me on the shoulder again. “He’s a Devil, Kitty! A Devil through and through, just like the rest of us. Stop mithering him. Oi, Zach, go on ahead and get the lad a beer before this one chops his bollocks off and has him weeping into a hanky.”

“A beer… he’s fifteen, Warrior,” Kitty protested.

“His mother just died, woman. If he’s old enough to carry her coffin, he’s old enough to have a beer with his brothers. Ignore her,” he said, directing his words to me. “There was a day when the women hanging around this place kept their silence. Can’t say I don’t miss those days. Can’t say I don’t…” his words trailed off as he walked on ahead, a slight limp in his step—the weakness that had eventually made him step down as president. We all thought it would be the arthritis in his hands, but itturned out bone cancer had taken his pride and joy from him before anything else had the chance.

Without his bike and his president status, Warrior felt like half the man he used to be.

It seemed things were changing for all of us.

Kitty shot me one last look, but she took her place at Crash’s side and led the rest of the club back to the clubhouse. Each member slapped or squeezed my shoulder as they walked past. Imogen, Ant’s old lady, squeezed me into a hug and whispered that she had freshly baked cookies at her house whenever I wanted them. And then, one by one, everyone left.

Almost everyone.

“You ready, mate?” Dante asked, standing by my side and looking towards the clubhouse. He hadn’t left me the entire week. Not when we found her body. Not after she was taken away. Not during the funeral arrangements, the crowds of well-wishers, and the actual day. He didn’t say much, but he was there. Always.

He had seen her at her worst. He had dragged me off her cold, stiff body and dumped me on the sofa whilst he called in help. He kept my tears hidden, my pain a secret, and protected me in every way he could think of.

“All good, brother,” I nodded back, and together we started walking towards the clubhouse.

“I cancelled the Descendants meeting tonight.”

My head snapped towards him with shock. We never cancelled a meeting. Not since Macbeth had aged out and Dante officially took over. “Dante, if you did that for me, you really didn’t need to. I—”